


drunk under a streetlight

by benditlikepress



Series: folklore [4]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alcohol, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e06 The Voyeur's Web, F/M, Pre-Relationship, i wrote an entire fic in which nobody cries!, what is this? i dont know - enjoy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benditlikepress/pseuds/benditlikepress
Summary: After Ziva accompanies Tony to make use of his dinner reservations, the two take the first of many drunken walks home together.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Series: folklore [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853221
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	drunk under a streetlight

**Author's Note:**

> apparently i exclusively write about tony and ziva standing in doorways saying goodnight
> 
> set directly after 3x06 the voyeur's web. do I need to give a disclaimer that I know nothing about keys and locks? because I don't

“Your memory is pretty crazy.”

“It has only been a couple of hours, Tony, that is hardly rocket science.”

“I’ve lived here a couple of _months_ and I can hardly remember the way some nights.”

“That does not surprise me.”

Ziva accentuated her point by watching Tony as he strolled quickly across the street towards his apartment building, tucking and untucking his shirt collar from underneath the jacket he’d lost track of in the bar they’d gone to for a nightcap after the restaurant. He’d been drunk by that time – enthusiastic and cheerful but surprisingly mellow as he searched under his seat dumbly for the garment that he’d placed over the back of Ziva’s when they’d sat down.

He’d sobered up somewhat on the walk home and was now mostly just tipsy, a pleasant kind of buzz that Ziva herself could feel threatening to overtake her senses earlier in the evening before she’d cut herself off.

It was curiosity that had inspired Ziva to offer to take control of his obliterated dinner plans, rather than any form of pity, and her questions had somewhat been answered. Her own intentions, maybe, a little more illuminated now. She hadn’t actually said outright she was going to walk home with him to make sure he got there alright, almost certain that his chauvinism and pride would get in the way of any attempt for her to justify it. Besides, it wasn’t solely about him being drunk. If she was being honest, in fact, it wasn’t about that at all.

Tony’s apartment wasn’t too far from the bar and they got there fairly quickly, the street outside still busy even as night turned into morning. Tony stopped before they reached it, though, and began patting his jacket.

“Problem?”

He fiddled in his back pocket, eventually pulling out the key to the building and a piece of paper that he scrunched his face at and squeezed into a ball.

"Can you be trusted to get inside by yourself?"

“Ha. Good one.”

Ziva ignored him, following him inside. With a grin he held the door open for her, beckoning her into the lobby.

“I left my bag upstairs.”

“You’re right. Couldn’t trust me with _that_ , could you?” There was a smug note to his voice as they made their way up the stairs, understanding the flimsiness of the excuse.

She hung back a little when they got to his apartment door. The hallway was strangely lit – a dark corner at the end of it. She hadn’t gone inside earlier – simply given him her bag to dump inside next to the door, and now she was looking at it there was an unexpected reluctance playing on her mind.

Ziva knew that if she stepped foot inside his apartment, this was only ending one way. And, as much as she wanted to, strangely she was hesitant. It wasn't just his drunkenness that was making her take pause, but something else too. But then, it wasn’t simply a debate over sex that had her rooted to his doorstep right now. It would be easier if so. She was enjoying his company – she didn't want to leave. And that sent alarm bells off in her mind more than anything else.

She’d been watching a spot on the darkened far wall, very much determined to not give his bent pose attention, when Tony let out a noise of frustration and stood up again. The movement took him close into her space and she ducked her head back to avoid it making contact with his elbow.

“Uh – problem.”

“What?”

“The lock’s busted.”

“Very funny, Tony, really – I was not insinuating you are too drunk to get inside your own apartment.”

“I’m not kidding. It’s broken. Look.”

Tony moved out of the way of the door and allowed Ziva a view of his key, jammed in the lock. The lock encasement was half-hanging off the door now, as though it had been yanked.

“How did you do this in the last 10 seconds?”

“I have no idea, it just kinda pulled off in my hands.”

“What are you – The Incredible Hulk?”

The reaction on Tony’s face at her words could only be described as a childish joy. “You’ve seen The Incredible Hulk?”

“No, why?”

“Wh-“ He shook his head, disappointed again. In fact, Ziva’s sister had been a comic book fan. She wouldn’t usually make such a reference, invoke that kind of memory, but perhaps the alcohol was clouding her head in the same way it was Tony’s. “Whatever. Just lemme call someone to come fix this.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket but his gaze lingered on her, as though he expected her to say she was leaving. She held her ground. He winked and put the phone to his ear.

* * *

“Hey, Johnny? Yeah, it’s Anthony DiNozzo. Good. Look, I’m locked out of my apartment right now – the key’s broken off and the mechanism’s stuck. Yeah, no kidding. Do you think you can come up? Alright, thanks man. Cheers.”

He hung up his phone and flicked it around in his fingers a couple of times. Tapped his foot as he walked up and down the hallway.

“15 minutes.”

“Lucky we are inside, it looked like rain.”

A strange beat of discomfort passed as they both looked around the quiet hallway. Their eyes met, again, and Tony smiled a little and nodded.

"Welcome to my office."

"I like what you have done with the place."

"Thanks. I hear goth's very in right now, so.." He pointed towards the darkened area.

"Yes, I'm sure. If Abby is anything to go by, then.."

"You get many goths at Mossad?"

"Would it surprise you if I told you there are?"

"Really?"

"No. You and Abby are out of the norm." She teased him, looking around. "I am not sure she likes me very much."

"Who, Abby? C'mon, Ziva. She likes everyone."

"You think so?" Ziva raised her eyebrows at him and saw him fight the instinct to disagree with her. She’d seen in the short time she’d known him that teamwork and harmony was important to him, but there was no point in lying.

He exhaled, instead.

"I don't think it's personal."

"I know that."

"She'll come round." Tony barely got the words out before yawning, an obnoxious sound that he accentuated by stretching his arms over his head.

“Tired?”

“Long day. Long case.”

She watched him run his hands through his hair and sensed a tiny glimmer of weariness as he did so, soon covered over again with an open smile directed at her. She shrugged.

"I could break you in, you know."

"With the key broken off in the door?"

"Absolutely. It would be more of a challenge, but yes."

"Thanks, but I do actually want to still have a door that functions. You can head off - you don't have to wait."

"I am in no rush. Besides, my intention was to get my bag back. I may as well hang around even if I cannot for a while.”

His reaction was such that Ziva wondered if she’d revealed too much. A little blink of surprise.

She was rapidly forming the idea that letting her guard down around him might end badly for her. That it wouldn't be possible to get it back up. She barely knew him, and the warning signs were there.

"So what's this - you coming to the aid of a damsel in distress?"

"I suppose that is a role you are familiar with enough to judge for yourself."

"You really didn't have to."

"I was worried about you wandering into oncoming traffic. I have no desire to be investigating your death tomorrow morning."

"I'm not _that_ drunk."

"You are, DiNozzo. Or at least you were when we left the bar. I did not anticipate you being such a lightweight."

"I.. what?! A lightweight? Did you see how much I had to drink?"

"Apparently not. I was too busy watching the mountains of food arrive at the restaurant. Just because someone offers to pay is not an invitation to spit them dry."

"Sp.. bleed. But I didn't bleed you dry, you ate just as much."

"I figured if I am paying, I may as well try it."

"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time."

"You are an obnoxious drunk."

"Only when I'm drunk? Ziva," he accentuated her name, "you flatter me."

She bit back her instinctive response. He'd actually been a very pleasant dinner-and-drinks companion (Ziva would baulk at calling it a date). Polite, funny, even charming most of the time. All qualities she had associated with him to varying degrees at certain moments since they'd first met a couple of months ago, but never ones she'd experienced in such an all-consuming way.

She'd hesitate to admit it, but there was something a little disarming about being the focus of his attentions. Of course, he knew that already. Whether he knew it worked on her personally was another matter – Ziva had to confess, she was enjoying the way she seemed to make him second-guess himself. She got the impression that wasn’t something that happened all too often.

“Yes, well. I hope that does not go to your head.”

“Does anything?”

“In the short term I have known you, I think I can conclude that the answer to that question is yes.”

“You’d be surprised.”

When she leaned up against the wall, hands at the base of her back, she wondered not for the first time that evening what she was doing.

She knows she won't sleep with him. Another time, maybe, but not tonight. Still, it didn’t stop him taking an unconscious step to follow her towards where she’d settled. Lean, just slightly, into her space. Ziva thought, if she’d tried, it would barely have taken a step forward from where she was now to be right up against him.

“I am sorry again, about Monica.”

For a split second, it seemed like Tony had forgotten about it entirely. Eventually he nodded and cleared his throat.

“Eh, what can you do.”

“I thought you said she was perfect?”

“Should’ve been the first clue.”

Ziva was amused by how self-deprecating it was, so out of step with the rest of his persona. "Thank you for tonight. I realise I was a substitute but I am still getting used to the city and it is good to find new places."

“No problem. I had a good time in the end.”

“Never say no to a free meal.”

“See, you’re learning.”

“And you were able to get to dessert with a woman, yes? That must be a rarity.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing.”

Ziva caught his eye and he lingered on the contact for a little longer than usual, searching her for anything she wasn’t saying. Eventually coming up empty, he put his hands in his pockets and dipped his head.

"I'm glad you had a good time. All part of the service."

"And what service would that be?"

"I'm your partner, it's my job to make sure you feel welcome."

"Is that so?"

He'd said the sentence in jest but there was a strange sincerity lingering behind it. She wondered how often he did that - barely hid true meanings with a smile as though they were a joke.

He'd been genuinely insightful about NCIS, and though he hadn't offered advice in so many words he'd given her some more understanding of the way things worked. She'd felt comfortable enough to ask a couple of questions of clarification - she didn't as a rule care what people thought, but equally had been concerned since her arrival at making the rest of the team believe she was capable. She wasn't sure, however, they were quite aware of how many acronyms and colloquialisms they used in their work on a daily basis. Ziva spoke many languages already, but sometimes this felt like a different one entirely. Tony had laughed, not unkindly, when she'd asked him what a LEO actually was. Apparently the FBI and the CIA were barely the tip of the iceberg when it came to agency acronyms, though she couldn't be sure Tony hadn't made a couple of them up.

"Are you expecting me to report back to Gibbs on what a welcoming host you have been?"

"Probably best not to mention to him that we went to Rick’s."

"He would not approve? It has a reputation?"

"More like I do."

"I think you do yourself a disservice. I doubt that is what Gibbs would think."

She wasn't convinced. It's difficult to tell when you have no previous experience of a person to go on, but Ziva got a little hint of a vibe in Gibbs' eyes when he watched the two of them interacting.

Maybe he was right too. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about it. Repeatedly, in fact.

That was what made her apprehensive - a surprise in itself, something she had never been accused of before. She got along well with McGee, feeling an ease in his presence that her work at Mossad didn't often afford. Tony, though, was a different story. The kind of instinctive ease that made her more in-control senses uneasy at the same time.

Ziva’s fingers tapped against the wall behind her and she leaned forwards. Tony’s eyes flickered down as she moved minutely closer to him, maybe a little expectant.

"Ziva, can I ask you a question?"

His voice, startling and sober as it sounded, made her blink. "You can ask, I cannot promise an answer."

"Why did you want to work here?"

"I-" she stopped talking abruptly, realising she hadn't got an answer prepared. She'd half-expected him to ask all night but he hadn't, proving himself very adept at avoiding awkward and tetchy conversation topics even with someone who was still at the base of it a near-stranger. There was a quiet curiosity in his eyes now though, still standing a fraction closer than they should've been.

"I thought the time was right for a change." She settled on eventually.

"Because of what happened?"

"Not just that, no. I suppose I just wanted to settle down somewhere a little more permanent for a while. I have spent so much of my career up until now on the move - which, do not get me wrong, I do enjoy. But I felt as though this was an opportunity for me to experience something I have not gone through before. Learn a new set of skills. Challenge myself."

She watched his reaction carefully, his slow nod not giving much of anything away. She wondered if he bought it, or if he had little desire to probe her further tonight. If there was something he wanted to know, she surmised, he'd hold onto it.

"I think you are too drunk to be asking questions like that."

"Not drunk anymore. But maybe you just aren't drunk enough to give an honest answer." He shrugged off his blinding accuracy, and Ziva tried to cover the fact it had taken her aback. He exhaled at the ceiling. "I don't usually drink that much on a school night."

"You were hungover my first day of work."

"That was the exception rather than the rule."

“As has been emphasised to me since I arrived in DC, you cannot conclude based on assumptions in this job. You need evidence. My evidence is inconclusive.”

“You think so?”

“I _think_.. maybe you are trying to paint yourself in a good light.”

“Hey, that is _no_ way to talk to a superior, Officer David.”

She hated how endearing all of this was. She'd recognised his disarming smile from a mile away the first time they'd met - expected it, even, given what she'd already known about him. There was something different about it when it was directed at you in a darkened room, cold air making you lean in closer.

“You are not my superior, Tony. _Technically_ I do not work for NCIS.”

"Alright, maybe not. But still - there's a hierarchy to these things."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. An order of people."

"I know what a hierarchy is. From the Ancient Greek."

"How could you _possibly_.. whatever. My point is, don't think I can't pull rank."

"I thought I was your partner?"

"You are, but I'm also the second in command. Y'know, people look up to me. I have to set an example."

"Oh, I am sure." Ziva nodded, a wide-eyed sarcasm. "So I am underneath you?"

"You might say that." Tony's smile changed at her words and she felt a little heat pool in her stomach at the way his eyes squinted amusedly. She could’ve sworn she felt him shuffle his feet closer, now only inches from her own.

"But I am above McGee."

"You..” His flirtatious smirk faded as he drowned in confusion. “Are you?"

"Yes? He is the.. um.. probie, yes?"

"Oh. Yeah. I mean, I guess so? I'm not sure, maybe we should check."

"I cannot be the probie because I am not an NCIS employee."

"Maybe not, but when you're on the team you're one of us."

Ziva wasn't expecting the words to make her feel as good as they did. "You are never going to call me probie, for the record. I do not even know what it means."

"Probationary agent."

"Which I am not."

"Nicknames don't always mean the exact thing they're based off of. You know what my basketball team used to call me?"

"I get the feeling that may be a story you regret telling."

"Maybe you're right. Don't want to give you any more ammunition."

She thought about his reaction when they'd first met. The way he'd almost seemed caught off-guard before he grabbed a hold of himself, fighting to regain the high ground. She smiled and tilted her head, appraising him.

"Do I intimidate you, DiNozzo?"

Tony spluttered. "Me? No. I don't intimidate easily."

"Ah, but it can be done. Yes? Not tonight, maybe. But sometimes."

"Not by you." He denied defensively, his eyes flickering to her lips as she leaned forward on her hands and a little further into his space. So close she could see a bead of sweat on his hairline.

"Why not? Because I am a woman? Because I am younger than you?"

"No. Because you're.. you. And I don't intimidate easily." Though not a word of it was true, in his defence he was dripping with confidence, a smile playing on his lips at their proximity to each other.

"I do not believe you."

"Yeah, well that's.."

"Mr DiNozzo. Sorry to interrupt.”

Tony turned away from Ziva at the sound of his name, still standing too close but dragging himself out of the pull. A man wearing a utility belt was standing at the top of the stairwell.

The tension that had been buzzing in the air flattened out again, just a touch. Ziva remembered herself.

“Hey, Johnny. Sorry to call you out so late.”

“No problem. You said the lock’s broken?”

“The key’s stuck in it. I don’t know what happened.”

“Alright, well let’s take a look.” The man approached the two of them and dawdled a little in front of Ziva, who was stood against the wall close to the lock. “Sorry, ma’am, can I just..”

Ziva didn’t react to the moniker, instead moving out of the way of the workman. Tony followed her, gravitating in her presence even as his attention was drawn elsewhere. They stood next to each other, Tony half a step behind her and their arms touching.

The man got some kind of tool off his belt and bent down to look at the lock closely. “Ah yeah. I see the problem. Shouldn’t take too long. Sorry about this, Mr DiNozzo."

"No big deal." The tone in his voice was enough to earn him a second glance, his tipsiness clear.

"Gotta get that light fixed. I'll do that in the morning. I promise it's not always like this." The sentence was addressed at Ziva, who smiled politely.

Conversation dried up while he worked on the lock. Tony was still crowding behind Ziva and she felt herself sway slightly towards him once or twice, their bodies pressing together. He looked down at her a couple of times but she didn’t indulge, looking around the room and at the workman while his breath was in her ear.

It only took a couple of minutes before Johnny stood up and placed the key in Tony’s hand, making a comment about fitting a new lock that went over Ziva’s slightly swimming head – alcohol or proximity, she wasn’t quite sure.

"Enjoy your night." There was a sly grin on his face as Johnny departed. Ziva turned back to Tony with amusement.

"He thinks I am your one-night stand, yes?"

"Don't know where he's getting that from."

"I am sure it would be very out of character."

The door was hanging open now, Tony's hand on the handle but him facing away from it clearly in no rush.

"A very patient one-night stand, huh?"

"Oh yes, for me to still be here I would have to have liked you a lot. Although the elevator is right there, I am sure we could have found some use for it."

For all of the confidence and bravado he'd gained through liquid courage, Ziva was pleased that she could still leave him speechless if just for a moment before he recovered with a chuckle.

“I don’t doubt that for a second.”

It was strange, that he could sound so sure. At the base, they still barely knew each other. Ziva wasn’t sure how she felt that someone could feel as though they knew her so well so quickly. Scared, not quite. On-guard, maybe.

“My bag?”

“Of course. This famous bag. You gotta tell me what’s in this – the crown jewels?”

“Crime scene essentials. Gloves, notebook. Why – what is in yours?”

“Ah, that’d be telling.” Tony bent down behind the wall. “Your bag, madame.”

Their fingers brushed as the handle of the bag passed between them and Ziva was certain a movie reference crossed Tony's mind as that did so - something she was realising happened more often than not. Instead though, when she met his eyes she found them hooded and heavy. Tension lingering in their gaze as their hands separated again and Ziva flung her bag over her shoulder, reminding herself that she knew this would end badly. When he was drunk, even more so. It's eventual inevitability, though, was apparently increasing by the second.

There was a pregnant pause as the two of them stood in front of each other – Tony now stepped into the apartment, and Ziva still outside in the strange lighting of the half-bright hallway. He yawned again but recovered it quickly, squinting his eyes a little with his hand on the doorframe. 

"Do you want to come in?" There was zero pretence behind his words, the tone wanting and filled with innuendo. A smile chasing her eyes as she looked down the hall towards the stairwell.

"You can barely keep your eyes open."

"Don't need them open."

"Tony.." Ziva bit back a smirk. "You will regret this in the morning."

"Why would I?"

"Because.." she faded off, a little surprised at the honesty. Genuine confusion on his face as to why he'd regret making a move on her once he had a clear head. She shook her own with a chuckle. "Maybe when you are a little more sober you can ask again."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"I probably won't, but good to know."

"Why not?"

"Rule 12."

Interestingly, or perhaps not, this was one of the first rules Ziva had heard.

"You take Gibbs rules seriously."

"You don't?"

"I hardly know them."

"Alright, lesson. Rule 7..9. Give Tony a ride to pick up his car tomorrow."

"What happened to making me feel welcome?"

"'m treating you like part of the team."

"As opposed to what?"

There was that smile again, this time breaking into a laugh that showed his teeth.

“Alright, alright. I see what you’re doing.”

“I am not sure what you mean. I will be here at 0600 – if you are not out here waiting you can find your own way."

"6am? C'mon Ziva, that's in like... 5 hours." He sounded drunker suddenly as he objected, childish intonation and an expression of disbelief making her raise her eyebrows.

"I am not being any later for you."

"6am isn't late."

"I start at 5. You can call McGee if you are not interested..?”

"I'll be there."

"Yes?"

"Drive slowly or I'll puke on you. Again."

"The requests keep on coming."

"Your choice."

“I am not sure how this has turned into a negotiation – I am doing you a favour, and I will drive how I please.”

“Then you can deal with the consequences.”

Ziva couldn’t hold back her laugh then, incredulous but amused. "Goodnight, DiNozzo."

"Why'd you keep calling me that tonight?"

It was obvious, of course. One of her more blatant moves. An attempt to remind herself of their relationship, that she'd only just arrived and had no business buying into him as much as she did. There was an inevitability, at Mossad, to sleeping with her partners. Things didn't work like that on Gibbs' team. And they certainly didn't with Tony, a man who had a dangerous knack to try to get inside her head.

It wasn't intimidation: if anything, it was the opposite. It was the strange thrill of uncertainty as she watched him barely reign in his surprise at something she'd said, and then manage to compose himself to equal it. It was a special kind of excitement, to feel as though you'd met your match.

"It is your name, is it not?"

"Well, yeah. But..." Tony read something in her face then that made him take pause.

“Yes?”

“Never mind.” His frown was one of amusement, a knowing flicker passing between their eyes as he stood alone on the threshold of his apartment. Ziva nodded as she spun on her heel and turned towards the stairwell, out of his orbit.

"Goodnight, DiNozzo."

"See you in a couple of hours, David."


End file.
